


Deepest Desire

by Tenoko1



Series: Good Omens Prompt Fics [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), Compulsion, Cursed Crowley, Curses, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, OTP Feels, Porn with Feelings, Unintended Consequences, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22256782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1
Summary: Please, please, please. I’m sorry.Crowleywassorry-- the part of his brain that could function was, at least. The part that wasn’t under the effects of the blessed curse. He didn’t think the witch expected this result. To curse a fallen angel to be desperate for the thing he could never have— only for the deepest desire of his heart, ademon’s heart, to be apersoninstead ofsalvation.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Prompt Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1449808
Comments: 182
Kudos: 795
Collections: Good Omens (Complete works), Top Aziraphale Recs





	Deepest Desire

**Author's Note:**

> You may know I don't have a history of writing smut, but followers on Twitter and Tumblr came through for me this weekend when I needed it, so please consider my breaking pattern regarding writing/posting smut a 'thank you' for your kindness. It's my first time writing it, please bear in mind. I hope you enjoy it.  
> 

Crowley keened.

It was all he could do, a desperate whine, whimper, pleading in his throat, entire body aching, throbbing, burning, Crowley's face buried in Aziraphale’s neck, _Please, angel, please, oh God, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

The response was a warm hand skating up the bare skin of Crowley’s back. It was a mouth at his ear and soothing reassurances. The hand on Crowley was steady, encouraging the twitching rock of Crowley’s hips into a hard sensual roll, leaving Crowley scrambling for purchase on Aziraphale’s back, fingers and nails pressing into soft flesh, _Ah! Oh! Please, please, please. I’m sorry._

Crowley _was_ sorry-- the part of his brain that could function was, at least. The part that wasn’t under the effects of the blessed curse. He didn’t think the witch expected this result. To curse a fallen angel to be desperate for the thing he could never have— only for the deepest desire of his heart, a _demon’s_ heart, to be a _person_ instead of _salvation_.

Now, here he was. Now, here _they_ were.

Crowley’d stumbled into the shop like a drunkard, staggering and tripping into Aziraphale’s space, head on his shoulder. Hands gripping the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat, Crowley had panted like he were already on the brink.

Aziraphale had taken one look at him and seemed to understand.

 _Oh, dear,_ Aziraphale had sighed, concerned instead of reproachful, his hand on the small of Crowley’s back, _My dear,_ what _have you gotten yourself into?_

There’d been a snap of fingers, then a blur of time or movement or _something._ Crowley wasn’t in any frame of mind to notice. Then, they were stumbling toward their little nook, Aziraphale guiding him. Crowley blindly followed, hands shaking as they alternately grabbed at Azirpahale’s clothes then tried to backpedal, smoothing them out, running his palms and fingers over them, just wanting-- _needing_ \-- to touch the angel. Wanting closer. Wanting to touch and be touched, wanting to hold him, wanting to curl up close, twine himself impossibly around the angel, to live behind his ribs in the sanctity of his heart, wanting to never, _ever_ let go.

He’d looked at Aziraphale, yellow eyes wide and vulnerable and afraid. _Help me_ , he’d pleaded. Surely, Aziraphale, with all his books and knowledge, would know how to rid Crowley of the curse, and they could move past this without risking their friendship.

Aziraphale hadn’t been afraid, though. He hadn’t even looked anxious or uncertain. He’d had the same look in his eyes when he’d held a flaming sword and been prepared to face down the devil himself. The same look when he’d said, _To the world_.

It made the quaking ease, made Crowley's muscles uncoil with relief. Aziraphale would know what to do. He was so very clever, and Heaven had _always_ underestimated him.

But perhaps Crowley had underestimated him as well.

As Crowley stared at him, fingers flexing and clenching the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat, Aziraphale slid a hand around the back of Crowley’s neck, fingers in his hair as he leaned forward, his soft, warm mouth pressing against the hammering pulse point of Crowley’s throat.

Crowley had groaned, head falling back as though Aziraphale's mouth were on places other than his throat. Crowley pressed closer, wanting more contact, more friction, more _Aziraphale_.

And at the same time, absolutely _terrified_ to touch him.

Then, they were on the sofa, Crowley straddling Aziraphale’s lap, chest heaving for breath, fingers continuing their clench-unclench pattern with Aziraphale's lapels.

 _Yes_ , Aziraphale said, chin tilted up. His eyes were soft when Crowley tore his gaze away from Aziraphale's mouth to look at him. _I’m here, dear. It’s alright._ We’ll _be alright. What do you need?_

 _You_ , Crowley gasped. _All I’ve ever needed was you_.

 _You have me, dear Crowley. You’ll_ always _have me._

With a whimper, the frayed remains of his control snapped, and Crowley pressed forward, taking Aziraphale’s mouth with his. Crowley's knees dug into the worn couch, trying to push closer, arms around Aziraphale's shoulders, a hand in his hair, desperate to hold and touch as much as he could.

A low, throaty groan poured from Crowley’s throat when Aziraphale slid a hand under his shirt, touching his skin like this for the first time, the sensation magnified by the spell’s affect on him. _That_ , he needed more of _that_ , more contact, more closeness, more of whatever Aziraphale would give him.

Clothes were coming off in an intoxicating blur, and Crowley couldn’t tear his mouth from Aziraphale’s long enough to explain. To apologize. To voice that… that this _want_... this want he held for Aziraphale wasn’t just sexual. He’d meant what he’d said. He wanted Aziraphale. In his life and his space as much as in his hands. He wanted touch and affection and proximity.

He wanted Aziraphale to love him.

He burned with the desire as he never had in the six thousand years he'd loved Aziraphale.

Crowley didn’t know which of them miracled away the rest of their clothing, but the abrupt feel of skin against skin had him sighing into Aziraphale’s mouth and then dropping his head on a low moan, forehead against Aziraphale’s shoulder, arms around his body as Crowley rocked his hips forward instinctually.

_Please, angel, please, oh God, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

Arm around his back and hand on Crowley’s hip, Aziraphale kissed his jaw again, _Sshh, darling. I’m here_ , he promised, pulling Crowley’s hip, encouraging him to roll his hips, to grind against Aziraphale again, his dick caught between them and pressed into the softness of Aziraphale’s belly.

Crowley nearly lost his mind right then, grappling for purchase and holding on as sounds and expletives poured from his tongue with each roll of his hips. He bent over Aziraphale for hot, open-mouthed kisses, gasping against the angel's mouth.

Aziraphale’s erection pressed against Crowley, sliding against his ass with every shift of Crowley’s hips.

 _And, yes, that, **that** ,_ Crowley thought, snapping his fingers. Sudden, wet, dripping folds made Aziraphale gasp as his dick slid between them, still outside of Crowley's body. Both of Aziraphale's hands gripped Crowley's hips hard. Crowley knew he’d have bruises later, and _oh_... _that_ was a _delicious_ thought that made him shiver and pushed him over the edge.

Crowley came, shuddering from head-to-toe. His head fell back with a cry and a whimper, his dick spilling a mess between their bodies.

The orgasm only eased the ache a little.

He slumped forward with a whine, head against Aziraphale’s shoulder, his dick still hard and aching, defying all human rules of anatomy because they were so _far_ from human.

Crowley clamped his teeth on the tendon of Aziraphale’s neck, and Aziraphale groaned, head tipping back, lashes fluttering. Crowley was still rolling his hips, wanting closer, wanting more. He never wanted to stop.

“Please, angel, oh god, _please_ ,” he begged, releasing Aziraphale’s neck to bite his earlobe as he shifted his weight, made his slide against Aziraphale’s dick less of a tease and more insistent.

Panting, Aziraphale nodded, hand on the back of Crowley's neck.

Their foreheads were touching when Aziraphale slid inside of Crowley.

Crowley pushed to sitting, head falling back, as a low groan squeezed from his throat, his eyes rolling backwards. “ _Uuuuuuuhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_.”

Aziraphale shook, his forehead against Crowley’s chest as he struggled for control; taking careful, measured breaths. His arms were tight around Crowley’s body like he never wanted to let go.

Oh, they were going to be an absolute mess by the end of this. Crowley could already feel himself close to a second orgasm just from the feel of the angel, _his_ angel, pushing inside him.

Crowley ran a hand through the tufts of Aziraphale’s hair, hand on his jaw to make him look up. Aziraphale's eyes were hooded, blue a thin ring around his pupils, and mouth swollen and slick. There was no hesitation, no question in Aziraphale’s eyes, just the same want and hunger driving Crowley to madness.

“ _Darling_.” It was a whisper of breath, ghosting over Crowley's lips before their mouths were moving against each other again.

Crowley rolled his hips in small, careful movements, the occasional twist or swivel wringing obscene noises from them both. Crowley greedily swallowed them down like he might die without his mouth on Aziraphale, without Aziraphale’s mouth on him.

“Oh, ah! Ah! Oh fuck, angel, fuck!”

They clutched at each other. Crowley had a hand curled in Aziraphale's hair, pulling his head back as their kisses turned messy; panting against each other’s mouth, the occasional swipe and slide of tongues.

The well-manicured nails of Aziraphale’s hand dug into Crowley’s back, the grip of his other hand on Crowley's hip bruising and no longer gentle, but desperate, needy, demanding.

Crowley lived for it.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Crowley… mm, ah, just like that, just like...”

Aziraphale was panting, his movements commanding, expletives falling from his lips, and body moving with Crowley, chasing his own pleasure as much as he sought Crowley’s.

It was the ‘fuck,’ maybe. Or, maybe it was the way Aziraphale’s eyes rolled back, words lost to a low moan dragged slowly from his throat. Perhaps it was seeing Aziraphale debauched and possessive, submissive and controlling in one, that sent Crowley over the edge a second time. Because, God, _fuck_ , it was hot. Everything Crowley had wanted.

Crowley jerked in a full-body spasm. His head dropped back, crying out louder as his body clamped down on Aziraphale’s dick inside of him. Then, Crowley straightened, one hand on the back of the couch, the other on Aziraphale’s shoulder, gritting his teeth and riding the angel hard and determined, a mad, desperate frenzy that nearly overtook Aziraphale.

Mouth falling open with a moan, Aziraphale's head dropped to the back of the couch, his chest flushed and heaving. “Oh, god, oh fuck. Just like that, dear--”

Aziraphale’s hands were on Crowley’s hips were almost brutal. Both of them were panting and gasping, the sofa groaning as they moved harder and faster, neither of them soft or kind, but demanding. Greedy. It was so, so fucking good.

“Oh, fuck, angel. Oh fuck. God, more.” There was a whine in the back of his throat, needy and urgent, Crowley's hands braced as he wrung the most obscene noises from the lips of an angel, _his_ angel. The angel he’d loved and wanted for some six thousand years. Even still! Even with them like this, Crowley could _still_ feel the spell under his skin, could feel the want, the chase, the desperate compulsion for more. Crowley clamped his eyes shut, forehead pressed hard to Aziraphale’s, his hand gripping his hair again, his words a sob, a benediction. “Oh, fuck. _Please_ , Angel, pleasepleaseplease. _Oh God_.”

“Crowley...”

“Fuck, there, fuck.” A whimper was ripped from Crowley, a desperate, breathless gasp that made him grit his teeth, clamping down harder around Aziraphale’s dick inside him. “Oh! oh! Aziraphale. Angel. _Fuck!_ Fuck, I love you. Ah, _more_ , _again_ , just like--” Crowley’s head fell back on a scream, his whole body a clenched muscle, his toes curling as he dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s shoulder, hips moving in twitches instead of rolls. His eyes rolled back in his head, lashes fluttering as the long, guttural sigh was extracted from his body and the pleasure made his mind white out.

Aziraphale’s arms were around Crowley’s back, fingers pressed deep, his forehead against Crowley’s chest as he pulled Crowley down a final time, crying out and shaking. Aziraphale's arms were locked around Crowley, holding him flush against Aziraphale as he came with Crowley’s name on his lips like a prayer, those same lips on Crowley's skin.

Then, they were both shaking and panting in the quiet.

Crowley was still in that blissed-out, dreamlike state, low gasps and noises in his throat as he rode out the last of his final orgasm, over-sensitive but always wanting. His dick twitched between them.

When Crowley came back down, Aziraphale's chin was tilted up, pressing soft kisses and bites to Crowley's thundering pulse, jaw, his earlobe.

Dazed-- and absolutely certain his legs were too shaky to walk-- Crowley pulled back, looking over Aziraphale’s features. Crowley’s body twitched, his hips jerking as though saying it could go another round, but his whole body was humming with bliss and contentment. Now he just wanted to hold Aziraphale, trace his fingertips over his waist and hip, occasionally brushing kisses against his skin, nuzzling in closer.

But that was for lovers. Crowley no longer knew what permissions he had or what to do next.

He cupped Aziraphale’s face, worry starting to creep in where the witch’s spell had been, filling up the space with anxiety and dread. “Are you alright?”

 _Are_ we _alright?_ he wanted to ask. Crowley had all but shown up and climbed Aziraphale’s dick like an addict desperate for a hit, a fix. It had been madness and want and desperation--

Hand in Crowley’s hair, Aziraphale guided him down so their mouths met. The kiss was languid and tender, Aziraphale smoothing his palm up and down the length of Crowley’s thigh.

Aziraphale broke the kiss to nuzzle Crowley’s neck.

A deep sigh like the release of pressure escaped Crowley’s mouth.

“I love you, too,” Aziraphale said. Crowley stiffened, suddenly remembering the words he’d said without meaning to. The words that… that seemed to be what the spell _wanted_. What _Crowley_ wanted. To love Aziraphale. For Aziraphale to _know_ , to _hear_ the words, for Crowley to release the crushing weight on his chest. Crowley stared down, seeing blond hair and soft skin. Aziraphale’s fingers skated up Crowley’s ribs and down, lips skimming the delicate skin of his throat. “You don’t know how much, my dear, _darling_ , Crowley.”

Crowley shifted so Aziraphale slid out of him, then settled again, still straddling his angel's lap.

“I… I didn’t think you would want this,” he said. _Me. A defective cast aside. A demon._

Crowley’s throat hurt, raw and scratchy with the need for a hot cup of tea or a frozen ice pop.

Aziraphale pulled him in for another kiss, and Crowley went willingly, eyelids sliding shut as their mouths met.

Crowley’s hands shook for a new reason as he carefully touched the pads of his fingers to Aziraphale’s jaw, the angel’s lips moving against his before opening his mouth for a much deeper kiss.

When it ended, Aziraphale smiled against Crowley’s mouth then leaned back to look at him, one brow cocked high and a playful smirk tugging the side of his mouth. “Want to tell me _exactly_ what happened to get yourself hexed by a witch on a Tuesday?”

Crowley was suddenly very aware of their nakedness. Regardless of recent activities, without the spell making him single-mindedly desperate, Crowley blushed, pale skin turning red from the chest up. Crowley dropped his gaze to Aziraphale’s bare shoulders, tracing his fingers across the barely-there freckles decorating the angel's fair skin.

“Bit of a prank that went terribly wrong, really. Or _right_ , but at a greater rate than expected, and... she was _not_ amused.”

“So, she hexed you with a _lust_ spell?”

Crowley blinked, eyes flicking up to meet blue. He shook his head, slow and careful. “She hexed me... she made me... she made me desperate for what I knew I could never have.”

“Oh, Crowley…”

“That was loving you,” Crowley insisted. He shook his head again. “Not sex. _You_. I wanted… I wanted to be _allowed_... to love you. Openly. I wanted you to _know_ that I love you.” He spluttered a laugh, horrified it came out shaky and wet, and he knew he had tears in his eyes when Aziraphale brushed one away with the pad of his thumb. “That I have for six thousand years.” He swallowed and fought hard not to blink, to let the tears hanging precariously on the end of his lashes fall. “I wanted you to love me, too.”

“My darling,” Aziraphale breathed, drawing Crowley back in for a kiss, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted, too.”

**END**

Huge thank you to [@Awellkeptsecret on Twitter](https://twitter.com/awellkeptsecret) for this BEAUTIFUL comic page!!! I love it!!

**Author's Note:**

> **I hope you enjoyed!**   
>  **Please remember to always properly feed and water your fanwork creators: like, comment, kudos, reblog (and tag), and rec their fics/gifs/graphics/artwork/podfics/vids/other works to your friends.**
> 
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> 
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